A Collection of Challenges
by vlad the inhaler
Summary: Various one-shots that I've written over time. No storyline, just lulz.
1. Dialogue Challenge

All of these are unrelated one shots that were done for challenges at various places. Some of them are a little... kinkier than my normal stuff, but this one is fairly tame, so I started with it.

Challenge Requirements: The shot must consist almost entirely, if not out right all of it, composed of Dialogue.

* * *

I knew you'd come. You snakes are all the same. Sneaking around when nobody's watching, acting as if you're the dog's bollocks.

Dog's...bits then. The...bits. Stop smirking! I don't know how he can't see it, but I've known for years. I might not be the most clever student – can't bloody stand to put the effort – but I've always seen right through the likes of you.

I'm not a... yes I can bloody well say that word. Pervert. Happy? I'm not a... a pervert. It's a figure of speech. There you go again, trying to turn this around, playing word games. 'Mione is the sharpest witch of her age, and enough's rubbed off that that constriction charm isn't going anywhere until I say the counter, and this room is bloody marvelous.

I bloody well did! ...Mostly anyway. Of course Harry doesn't know, I'm not daft! Mate's not thinking straight – might let you know what I was up to. ...It's not stealing. I've been Harry's best mate for seven years, I don't think he'd mind me borrowing his cloak. Or his map. ...that either. That's the point, isn't it. Blimey, the fact that you know half of this is proof that you've done something to him. Harry's a great chap, and powerful to boot. But you and I both know he doesn't have the best home life. Bet that's how you did it – no magic at all was it? Just flash a little leg, a few promises and and... being a scarlet woman...FINE, A BLOODY TRAMP... and he ate it right up. Bloody hell, maybe last year me and 'Mione were a little distant... we should have known of of you would have moved in like a sneaky...sneaky...

Yes, Snake! A sneaky snake.

I'm not turning red.

No, I'm not.

I'm not. I'm not. Bloody hell, you're worse than Malfoy. _Silencio_. Ha, try talking now you hussy! _Silencio. Silencio. Silencio._ Fine, talk – I don't care.

Like you snakes know what it means to care for anyone besides yourself. I know what you are, Ms. Ice Queen. Yes... Ice Queen, You are an Ice Queen. With your cold glare and...long legs. Tamping about on your long legs and glaring coldly. Yes you bloody are! I've never seen you talk to anyone without glaring.

Yes, coldly.

That's not important. The fact remains that you are an Ice Queen. _Silen-_.

Bloody hell! No. No no no.

Seven months... but...that's before last term ended. Ginny...

Bloody hell.

_Oblivitate._

* * *

Ron, you alright mate? Took a nasty fall there – probably best if you let Neville get you to the infirmary. Who? Oh right – the slytherin girl. Must have been a bad blow to the head – we're Gryffindors. I was? Huh. Neville, make sure he gets to the hospital wind in one piece. Poor bloke's out his head.

Right. I'm going to take my cloak off you, and then I'm going to release Ron's...attempt... at the constricting charm. It's probably a good thing you knew what was going on – poor bloke's grandkids wouldn't have had a chance.

Well yeah but... I'm not always right you know, and I did predict he wouldn't last ten minutes without labeling you an Ice Queen... you ought to have heard him after the Yule Ball – if it wasn't about Krum and Hermione it was about you. I'm not changing the subject. Yes, I paid Neville the fifteen galleons, my own fault though, but I still believe Ron could cast most of the first year curriculum.

Yes, you win too, though I think leading him to believe that I was cheating on his sister is unfair. I didn't do more than look at you until I'd broken up with her – mum raised a gentleman.

Macabre, aren't you? Love you to.

And Daph, he wasn't completely wrong. You do have nice legs.


	2. Rated M for My God

For this shot alone, I gave this entire collection the 'M' rating. It's disturbing.

Challenge: Ron Weasley couldn't help fantasizing about her. His sexual preferences had always been a bit unusual, what with his lust for his beaver-toothed hermaphrodite best friend. But it was just plain unnatural... which made it all the more erotic.

* * *

"Mr. Weasley, you'll tell me what the problem is right now, or you'll sit on that cot until the end of term. Am I making myself perfectly, _perfectly_ clear."

The gangly redhead nodded slightly, his face turning a fierce crimson. "Err…Madam Pomphrey, I um…." another pause as he continued to turn an unattractive shade of red. "What I mean is, Malfoy and I got into a duel and he…he…"

"What did he do, Mr. Weasley", the aged nurse responded, eager to finish whatever nonsense had occurred.

"He shrunk Professor Flitwick's desk….and then… he banished it up my arse!"

A blink, and absolute silence. Certainly, _this _had never happened to one of her students before. Nonetheless, professional procedure won out, and Madam Pomphrey summoned a pair of white gloves.

Inside, Ron was cheering – it was Christmas, the House Cup, and the Chudley Cannons opening game all rolled into one beautiful sixty year old nurse shaped package. Never mind that he had deliberately antagonized Malfoy in hopes of provoking the Slytherin idiot to challenge him, nor that he'd Polyjuiced himself as Goyle earlier to offer Malfoy the strategy currently lodged up his backside. Everything was working brilliantly.

Ron Weasley couldn't help fantasizing about her. His sexual preferences had always been a bit unusual, what with his lust for his beaver-toothed hermaphrodite best friend. But it was just plain unnatural... which made it all the more erotic.

"Mr. Weasley, you will have to remove your robes and bend over. Any attempt to summon the obstruction manually could severely damage your body – I shall have to remove the…desk…manually."

'_Brilliant.' _"Yes, Madam Pomphrey," Ron groaned, attempting to stay in character as an embarrassed schoolboy.

"I'll now place a numbing charm…"

"No!" Ron yelled, jumping up, eyes wide in fear. For what good would this plan be if he could not feel the moment he'd worked so hard for?

Seeing her shocked expression, Ron improvised, explaining that Harry had once numbed his bits for a week in retaliation for a lewd remark about Harry, Katie Bell, and s keg of Stamina Serum.

"Very well, Mr. Weasley, though I doubt you'll find the procedure pleasant."

Ron nodded, hiding the look of jubilation that threatened to spread across his face.

And then…bliss. Gloves hid the wrinkled hands he longed to feel, but simply knowing _she_ was the one doing the touching was enough to send Ron beyond the realm of mortal men. He was in heaven, dining with the gods as a miniaturized wooden desk was shaking about in his intestines, fingers delicately surrounding it on all sides.

Facing away from his secret infatuation, Ron's face twisted into a chilling smirk. She was his, by Merlin, and nothing Harry or anyone else did now could ever change it. Harry may have deflowered half of Ravenclaw tower. Hell, if the rumors were even half true then last night Harry had managed a foursome with Daphne, Tracy, and Fleur. But Pomphrey…Ron would kill him before he had a chance.

"Mr. Weasley, we're finished." Fantasies faded with the loud _snap_ of the gloves, destroying the images running through Ron's head. "For you I suppose… I'd probably ought to give the desk a few cleaning charms before returning it to the Professor," Madam Pomphrey said with a soft chuckle. "What you children do these days – I don't expect to see you back here Mr. Weasley, is that clear?"

Ron nodded, his previous euphoria giving way to depression as he was banished from his Shangri La. How cruel a world, to give him but a glimpse of such a fair mistress! There must be another way…

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when he saw Harry coming out of a classroom up ahead, his right arm around a buxom blond. Ron sighed – he'd never understand what Harry saw in Lavender. Not when he had…

Ah but he didn't, that vixen Pomphrey…_Poppy now, I suppose, given how intimate a moment we shared…_ Yes, that vixen Poppy was still out of his reach. There simply had to be another way.

"Honestly Ronald, must you be so careless?" Hermione squeaked, books falling as she tried to keep her balance. Ron blinked stupidly, realizing that in his wanderings he had just knocked his former love to the floor. With an annoyed sigh, he responded, "Bloody hell Hermione, not everyone can be as focused as you – get that bloody book out your arse."

As a wicked gleam entered Hermione's eyes, Ron couldn't help but feel that the fates were once again on his side.


	3. Immortal Harry

I think this one's my favorite, simply because of Crabbe.

Challenge: Harry and his group of priests and priestesses have finished the preparations to their ritual, live human sacrifice included. Now if only he could get rid of the meddlesome twits who insist on picketing his ceremony. Did they not respect religious freedoms anymore? Though, perhaps he shouldn't have chosen an open field.

* * *

Harry and his group of priests and priestesses have finished the preparations to their ritual, live human sacrifice included. Now if only he could get rid of the meddlesome twits who insist on picketing his ceremony. Did they not respect religious freedoms anymore? Though, perhaps he shouldn't have chosen an open field.

Harry cursed furiously under his breath. He'd spent months preparing for the day, drilled his priestesses over and over on everything they would do in the finest detail. He'd put his top lieutenant in charge of security, and hadn't even revealed to said lieutenant where exactly the sacred site was... in short, Harry had run the tightest ship he could, and it all amounted to a hill of beans anyhow. All around him, clamoring at the edges of the protective dome he had constructed around himself and his followers, protesters we clamoring for his blood.

"Really," Harry sighed petulantly, "doesn't anyone respect religious freedoms anymore?"

An undignified snort came from a heavy robed and brown hooded figure to his left. "Sacrificing two dozen of the greatest magical persons of our time for one's own quest for immortality is hardly what the masses think of when one talks of tolerance. Really Harry, I don't see you won't let me go out there and slaughter the lot of them, pathetic sheep." The shrouded voice finished in a breathy sulk.

Harry however, simply wasn't in the mood. There was too much at stake – how often did one have a chance to obtain immortality in a not-at-all-harmful-to-the-caster ritual, one previously thought lost to times immortal? Once ever six lunar months, that's how often. And as Harry knew, waiting six lunar months is a quick way to end up dead.

"Can it Greengrass," he growled. "It's not my fault you hit your quota yesterday. Go kill puppies or something, but I won't have all my future minions maimed beyond the ability to grovel just because you can't learn some control." With that, he walked away, ignoring Daphne's angry mumbling. "Not my fault you picked this place. Secret ritual in the middle of an open field..."

"Right then, let's see... whose souls am I going to ingest today? Who did my lovelies pick out in my quest for immortal--. Oh for the love of... Fucking flunkies. Chang! Chang, where the hell are you?"

"Here, your excellency." Course, she too was covered in the brown hood, but it _sounded_ like Cho. And even if it wasn't, she had been previously skinning Ernie McMillan's corpse, so clearly, she was on his side. "Who did you send out, that brought back this pathetic offering for my ritual."

Cho stammered. "B-but sir... you said to bring the most powerful. Did he not fight at your side, and slay a dozen of Fenrir Greyback's finest warriors? Did he not bring down _Raznu_, leader of the Alpine Giants? He was not chosen unduly, your excellency."

Harry paused, taking a breath and rubbing his forehead. Even without Voldemort around anymore to skullfuck his scar, the migraines his lessers gave him were just as bad. "Cho..." Harry said slowly, "I don't give a buggering toss if he managed to do all that, and more besides. I refuse – do you here me, _refuse – _to spend a sodding eternity with a little bit of Ron goddamned Billius Weasley stuck inside of me. So tell me, which of your people thought it was going to be a really good idea?"

Terrified, Cho pointed out a mousy looking girl, now cowering next to one of the seven great cauldrons. Unlike the priestesses, who until Harry had achieved immortality would remain anonymous in their uniforms to those outside the dome, the lower minions simply weren't worth the cost of material. "Right then, you! What's your name lass," Harry bellowed. A terrified _squeak _answered him.

"Right... well, congratulations! You'll be replacing Ron. What a noble way to go!"

"But... Harry, she's a squib! Surely you wouldn't want her..." Cho flailed desperately. Harry shrugged dispassionately. "Anything's better than him. And anyway, the ritual only calls for a dozen sacrifices. I doubled it on the off chance any of you fools bungled things up. Still, Ron doesn't deserve any consideration, so now everyone's happy. I have one less idiot as a follower, I don't have to suffer Ron's soul for all eternity, and Daphne gets to go one over her weekly limit. Wins all around, I'd say."

"Harry, it's time. We need to you to step into the pentagram so we can seal it behind you. This time, the graveled voice of Crabbe came from behind. Now _there _was a second-in-command that he could rely on. He'd been nothing short of impressed when he'd found out at the end of seventh year that Crabbe was the true brains of Slytherin House. Malfoy had been an arrogant berk and as such, an absolutely ideal fall guy. And with Crabbe as his sidekick, nobody had ever spent a moment what he might be up to when all eyes were on Draco. Security in plain sight... a truly Slytherin thing to do.

"Right Vincent, lead the way. Good to know someone's on top of things today. Crabbe nodded, his mind clearly dealing with a million details at once, all being stored away and organized for the appropriate occasion. "Harry, it's been a pleasure knowing you as a human. I only hope you feel the same way once you've obtained power beyond comparison." Harry smiled back, genuinely. It's been a real pleasure Vincent." He lowered his voice. "I've already promised to let Daphne turn Africa into her personal playground – not sure the muggles there will notice any difference really, but she's happy enough with it – and you and I both know that Chang's just itching to settle some score her family has... though I must say taking it out on the entire Pacific rim seems a little over-the-top..."

Harry paused, getting back on topic. "Anyway, you're the best number two I've ever had...how would you like a free hand on the continent. Madrid to Moscow, whatever that sharp mind hidden in that fat, brutish face of yours can fathom?"

Crabbe beamed. "Thank you sir! You won't regret it. Now in you go sir, we'll have you immortal and bordering omnipotent by sundown!" A moment later, Harry was sitting in the pentagram, able to see and hear all, yet now utterly sealed off from the outside world.

It began, as Harry fell into a magical coma, a small smile crossed his face. Life was good.

Immortality was better.


	4. Keep Your Wand Polished

Old Challenge that I just found. Can't remember what the prompt was but I'm pretty sure it was a play on words regarding 'master wand', and possibly Draco's case of impotence.

* * *

"Right, take this down to Wilkins then. Thank Merlin it's not my problem anymore," Harry Potter sighed.

A witch in crimson robes that clashed horribly with bright red hair nodded, taking the brown paper package and placing it under one arm. "Mmm, never a boring moment around here with you, is it Potter," she asked mockingly, though her eyes betrayed her jest. Turning to leave, she stopped – calling over her shoulder. "Mum's asking about you, you know. You ought to come by some time – do you good to get out of this hellhole once in a while."

Harry gave a noncommittal shrug. "I'll send her an owl, then. Bye, Ginny."

Ginny tsked, and Harry swore she mumbled, "course you will," under her breath. He pushed the thought aside - he had a very busy day ahead of him.

It wasn't easy, being owl-master general of South-East England. Some paranoid tosser had erected a redirection ward in downtown Brighton without prior notice, and the resulting backlog was only just being sorted. Combined with the ministry's new resolution calling for all post owls to be screened biweekly for spells and Harry was struggling just to maintain pace. At least Wilkins would have to deal with the latest uproar – exploding packages – Harry thought uncharitably.

He settled down to work, humming some inane tune or another he'd picked up from the wireless as he went through lists of delivery statistics. He frowned… an inordinate number of packages were going to Wales. He'd have to dig up some dirt on Smythe, or it was all too likely he'd be forced to send that greedy bastard some of his precious owls to help cope with the upsurge. "Probably having his people send owls back and forth just to fudge the numbers," Harry grumbled. He wrote the idea down, both to have one of his lackeys investigate Smythe, and to remind himself to do the very same thing at first opportunity.

Hours of such petty bureaucratic nonsense passed by, and Harry realized it was just past two by the time he'd finished a series of vital if unmemorable interdepartmental memos. Heading out for a late lunch in the cafeteria, he fell back as his door suddenly burst open, filled by an angry, slightly roundish face framed by dirty-blonde hair, styled in a pageboy cut that didn't seem to fit her at all. It was made all the more ridiculous by her furious glare.

"Potter," she hissed. "I've spent all day looking for you. Sit down." She waved a wand, banishing Harry into his seat.

"I've been here all day," he responded smugly. He rummaged in his desk, looking for his wand – he didn't use it much these days. "I'm fairly certain you could have asked my secretary for an appointment."

"I did!" she exclaimed, keeping her wand on him. "But she kept saying you were busy, or away, or that I needed to talk to the Department Head. Sit down," she repeated, knocking Harry once more into his seat.

"Right, well… Come in Astoria. Did I mention you look fabulous with the hair?" He finished with a silly grin.

Astoria grimaced. "Party thought it would work. Everyone agrees it's awful, but Zabini runs the party, and he tells me it's fabulous. I think he's just using me to take the piss out of my husband, but politics are politics."

"Mmm, well can't say I blame him. How is Draco doing these days – still not keeping up, as it were?"

"Fuck you," Astoria snapped, sparing a glance to the still open door as soon as she said it. Waving her wand once more, she closed the door, adding a silencing charm to the wall as an afterthought.

"It's your fault, I know it. You're still the master of his wand – I've always felt there was something off when you returned it to him after the war. I want you to give it back to him, for real this time."

Harry's smirked. "Wait a tic – are you saying I'm causing you and Draco problems because I still am the master of his wand?" he asked innocently, as if not understanding the question. "And here I thought it was the two of us fucking like rabbits once a fortnight." He shrugged. "Guess I wasn't in Ravenclaw for a reason."

Astoria shrieked, looking absolutely furious. "That's beside the point," she ground out. "You've done something to him, and he can't break the curse. He's not an idiot – the only logical reason the countercharm won't work is because you placed the original, and the wand won't go against you."

Harry laughed. "Nah, not even close," he responded. "I actually did return the wand to him – he just can't use it against me directly. What I did," he said with a leer and a shit-eating grin, "is every time you leave me, I place an anti-erectile charm on your lady bits. Only time it comes off is when you come back, hopelessly frustrated. If it means that much to you, I'll take it off for good. I don't really need you anymore anyway."

Astoria fired off a curse at Harry, then charged him. In an instant, Harry was out of the chair, blocking the incoming spell and jabbing his wand into Astoria's throat.

"I may be a bloody owl-master and the laughing stock of the ministry," he whispered in her ear, voice soft and dangerous. "But I still beat Voldemort twice, and more than a few death eaters besides. Just because I like the quiet life doesn't mean I've forgotten how to deal with people who attack me, capice?"

She nodded fearfully.

"Good." He removed his wand from her neck, waving it lazily at her lower half. "It's done – really, it is. I'm just not going to verbally cast an anti-erectile charm, now am I?" he defended at Astoria's quickly recovered poise and look of incredulity. "Not that it'll change much," Harry muttered, "Pretty sure I've ruined you for Draco anyway."

Astoria said nothing, a flush coming across her face as she looked down.

"Right then, off you go! I was going to get some grog from the lunchroom, but I feel like I've really earned my keep for the day – care to join me for a late lunch at The Siren? I'm a V.I.P. there… but of course you already know that, don't you?" He couldn't resist a final dig, their first 'date' during their affair.

"No? Ah well, next time then. Have a nice day." With that Harry opened the door. He paused theatrically, turning around and giving her a wink. "And don't forget, you're still under oath to keep my secrets. Ta-ta." Without looking back, he left the ministry.


End file.
